A huntress in prison
by Litestryke
Summary: Huntsmen and huntresses are the first and last line of humanity's defense against the dark tide of grimm. But they are not exempt from the law because of their duties. None know this better than the Kingdom of Imperialis, especially their prisons. Inspired by Naruto:Kunoichi in the Prison Camps. Warnings for: basically all the tags dark watcher use alongside extreme oocness
1. Chapter 1

**Hello everyone! The name's Litestryke and I'm probably the worst fanfiction writer in the whole world!**

**Wanna know why? Cause I could give you reasons that would last for days and I'm not gonna let myself get distracted by tangents and tirades now.**

**This fanfiction of rwby is something I've wanted to write for a while, but never really got my lazy ass to do so or got the chance thanks to rl. So now I'm going to.**

**This is what one could call 'recursive fanfiction' except it's of a totally different fandom. It is strongly inspired by the erotic fanfiction 'Naruto:Kunoichi in the Prison Camps'. That in turn is inspired by a Lara Croft piece that the author told the name of (which is more of a one-shot with a sad ending compared to the multi-chapter one the author is writing). He's published it on both ao3 and hentai foundry.**

**Keep in mind it's very dark. There may be no gore but the kunoichi prison labor fic has quite a bit of mindfuckery, psychological torture, severe unrealistic oocness of all named naruto characters, kinks and fetishes of horrific kinds, etc. that make the physical violence look a lot more appealing.**

**But The_Dark_Watcher is writing wonderfully! The kinkiness is good, sparseness of description of surroundings is good enough for me atleast (just the erotic scenes and descriptions are good enough to overlook lack of unimportant worldbuilding like the prion camp camp description), it seems to have _plot _ of all things, etc.**

**I am of course ashamed of my liking of all the kinks like those of the tags in ao3 and would never wish that to happen as often as it does in real life.**

**Keep in mind, I don't have a very good grasp on coitus in general, my kinks and view of kinks in general might come into disagreement with almost 99% of all those who do enjoy straight and/or gay sex and this story won't even have that many sex scenes really. I'll _try _my best, but I can't promise.**

**Also, I won't really listen to anyone's requests from reviews and a strong NO to underage character sex and romantic incest. Maybe some amounts of incest...forced mostly, obviously.**

**Also, this erotic piece will be written in a widely different style than what the dark watcher is writing, including probably a very different ending (he has given hints of the ending in comments but nothing final).**

**Also, the very setting of rwby here is _very_ different, with a whole new arrangement of kingdoms and whatnot. There may not be much resembling canon _at all _except maybe the most base elements.**

**Don't worry, I will try my best to show it in a better manner than World of Remnant as we go along.**

**Before you scroll down, can I please ask as a fellow human some free time of yours? You spent some time reading my garbage, so surely you must have time to read a book worthy of giants like GRR Martin and Rick Riordan! Please go to and search and buy the book 'The Traitor In Front Of You' by a good friend of mine who is GREAT at writing novels. This book needs not basic knowledge of indian hindu mythology! Just someone who can appreciate the sheer quality of what he has written!**

**And let me tell you something...you pick up that book and start reading...you may just read it till the very end demanding of him where book 2 is...because it's AWESOME AS FUCK YEAH!**

**Now, chop-chop! Let's get started!**

**Disclaimer: RWBY is property of Roostertooth, not me. This is merely a non-pofit product I'm writing.**

From the Office of All Foreign affairs of the Imperial Kingdom of Man:

[Warning! Access to File No. 9624 requires Level 7 access]

[…]

[Clearance Granted. Welcome Damien Shaw]

I have been requested by the High Council to write this brief document following recent discoveries of one imprisoned criminal huntress who is, as of said recent events, re-labelled as 'High Value Individual' (HVI). This individual was arrested on charges of assassination, theft, extensive property damage, endangering civilians, etc.

Subsequent arrest and imprisonment occurred almost 19 years ago, dated '7th of January 135 A.G.W II'*

, while full processing occurred almost 2 days after arrest.

Person was identified through profiling and public database available on CCT as Summer Rose, age 22 years, gender female, occupation as fully active huntress. Standard interrogation proved ineffective as Huntress Rose refused to speak unless compliance with stated terms was met:

-Communication with Headmaster Ozpin of Beacon academy of Vale city

-Direct communication with her husband Taiyang Xiao-Long (her husband) and Qrow Branwen(her school hunter team member)

-A lawyer

-A batch of chocolate chip cookies(she said so staunchly with what appeared to be a blank expression. Any amount of skepticism o this piece can be easily removed with camera footage of hidden cameras in her interrogation room)

However, since Mrs. huntress Rose did not act cooperative with us, we refused to comply her frankly ridiculous demands (we considered slipping her small amounts of our special brand of truth and sleep serum in batches of chocolate chip biscuits, a strategy we normally use for uncooperative criminals but ultimately scrapped it, seeing as how we had learned almost everything relevant to know about her dangers through the CCT and other public records)

Additionally, as standard protocol dictates we listed her rights and why she was arrested, with evidence provided as necessary. She vehemently protested, calling them 'false accusations' and mentioned something about a raven bird.

She was gassed with Tetrodotoxin vapors for easier transport to Female Prison Labor Camp #1, our potentially largest and most secure prison camp out of all. Also, during this unconscious state, she had one aura cancellation cuff locked onto her left ankle, one onto her right wrist and her neck. She was defibrillated through said said cuffs in small amounts so as to shock her awake.

As expected, she was far more lousy when she awoke, what with suddenly her aura being cut off and her bodily systems being far more slower due sudden lack of it, only to be suddenly electrocuted multiple times. Once the unmarked white van reached FPLC 1, she reportetdly regained her full bearings, she was brought out (apparently a little force had to be used to just pull her out since she was being pretty reluctant.

Rose was stripped of all items, clothing, weapon, potential weapons, etc. with extreme struggle up until she was remotely shocked through the cuffs again. Afterwards she was put through a very thorough full body search, bio-scans with x-ray and heat vision imaging included. Her shoulder length black hair which appeared to be dyed blood red in some portions was cut and shaved down until she had a buzzcut. She had reportedly tried to break the nose of the personnel trying to remove her hair and almost overcame 2 guards with sheer brute force despite visibly less muscle mass and certainly no aura access. She had to be pinned down by 3 half armored guards so as to clear out most of her hair.

This much detail in this document of what occurred so far is because I was personally there. Almost 22 years ago I was but a junior officer in the foreign affairs division in our glorious military, with not much ambition but just enough energy to serve Her Imperial Majesty. I had personally overseen about 10 or so other foreign huntsmen and huntresses who'd dared enter our borders. When I had gotten the file on Rose, I had believed that she would be no different than the others whom I'd personally reviewed and seen all the way up until their absolute imprisonment and rightful servitude in the labor camps.

Upon reaching the compound and reviewing the footage of what happened I finally met her in person and was pleasantly surprised. I could very well appreciate the male and female form though I leaned a little more towards the female side. I do not know why, but I was nearly entranced for a few seconds by those pale, silver eyes glaring at me. Her almost 2 metre tall, nude form was splendidly presented before me, bare as the day she was born and her highly fit form matching that of an accomplished gymnast with corded, tense muscles not very much visible under her toned and pale yet tanned form. Though she certainly had a tush, child bearing hips and boob size that didn't didn't belong on most female gymnasts I'd seen in my life. Her erect nipples underneath her slightly flushed and sweating face could easily be mistaken as signs of arousal rather than severe intended physical violence.

Like the many hunters I'd seen before her, I didn't let her divinely ebautiful face and body distract me from her filthy criminal aspect.

As per my job at the time, I told her the reasons as to why the buzzcut was necessary while omitting some details as per procedure. Namely that to prevent spreading of any lice that her hair could've caught from spreading in the prison. The same would be done for all her bodily hair, including armpits, limbs, posterior and pubic hairs. Surprisingly she didn't yell at me despite looking even more red as a tomato. I also noticed some of her pubic hair to have streaks of red amongst the black.

After that, I told her that due to the sheer number of laws she broke and just how much chaos and civil unrest she'd spread in our fine capital citadel, she was to be sentenced for 25 years of imprisonment at minimum if she maintained good behaviour as a prisoner and civil service via mining and labor.

She demanded as to why there had been no court holding for her case. I was just about to tell her about that, so I immediately told her that she, as a foreigner and a criminal of such high magnitude at that did not have the same rights that our citizenry did. She looked positively livid at that, something I relished in before telling her to follow us as she was guided along by security detail consisting of 6 standard armed and armored guards with enough experience and skill to take down the average aura powered person. A huntress of Summer Rose's capacity in her current state would stand no chance.

We guided her along for further processing with a powerful stream of cold water blasting her from all sides from head to toe until she was shivering and dripping wet. After that she was prodded along for delousing her whole body. Staff had provided all necessary amounts of delousing powder across her skin, making her itch all over the place due to how much of a skin irritant it was.

It was amusing and righteous, seeing her feel the weight of her crimes already after two days of imprisonment wet and cold, bald and itching all over. I wonder what 25 years of working and droning in our mines every day would make of her. Probably a withered husk of herself without any more aura and makeup to make her so beautiful.

As we led her into the blank white room with the standard issue prison labor gear, she expressed confusion and then more aggression, as expected like all the other criminals before her when I told her that this was her new work gear.

I will admit in the first page of this dossier that the uniform is understandebly absolutely offensive to those not born and raised in our glorious nation, not even country bumpkins look at it the same like the foreigners do.

A pair of sturdy leather work boots, a slave collar for her neck that would remain until her sentence ended and a work belt. The lack of true clothing would naturally rile her up. I explained to her that already such fine leather was wasted criminal scum like her we wouldn't spend more. Also in my opinion just like much of the glorious Magistrate's, considering how our Imperium is mostly a tropical climactic kingdom with some bare red deserts near our vacuon border, prisoners did not have to worry much for weather since the temperature under the hot burning sun could reach as high as forty degree celsius. And the open air nature of our quarries alongside the fact that the quarries were in places most hottest in the holy imperium, cold winter and rain would only be a concern if the burning sun was clouded and there weren't enough latex coverings and transparent coats(transparency for obviously the sake of making sure prisoners could hide nothing underneath to escape). She appeared to be mollified and angered by my whole explanation, just one step from probably killing me brutally. I was secretly curious how her pale yet tan skin would fare under the glowing solar rays of our nation once she started toiling away and was soon packed with real visible muscle independent of her aura.

Of course, she appeared to cross that level when I happily told her that she would be branded her three prison identity onto her skin. Namely, one above one of buttocks, one above one of her (somewhat massive) breasts and one above one of her shoulders. She naturally protested against this, again futilely trying to use her admittedly competent close quarter combat skills to overcome us and escape. This time the guards restrained her better due to knowing now what to expect.

She twitched angrily less and fearfully more as the iron branding got closer until she shrieked of pure pain as she was branded above her bosom. By the third one above her round bottom she was leaking rivers of tears and shrieking so hoarsely she couldn't only pitifully cry by then.

#9624 had now angry red burns branded superficially into three places of herself shaped in the numbers of her new identity:**9624.** I let her take a few deep breaths before telling her of the fourth brand she would get to symbolise her aura-powered huntress status to signify how more strict action must be taken with her. She was practically balling now when Huntress mark was branded into her back between her shoulder blades. She fainted out of sheer shock and pain after that. A complication not unforeseen fortunately. These hunter types after all often do when exposed to such pain and trauma with lack of aura,

Prisoner 9624's unconscious form was then carried into cell number 4055, a cell that was blank white on the sides, dark grey wall of the back and the front wall with the door with the electronic lock requiring keycard access level 7 was the same grey. The ceiling was a dark red, a small cot to the right, a a rusted tap on a sink in the back wall. Perfectly spick and span just like all the other cells in the whole prison.

Rose was unceremoniously dumped on the cot while I went to speak to the prison chief for finalising all the details that would entail the newly registered prisoner 9642 including what both our explanations of the prisoner's new daily schedule, obligations and whatnot. Of course, just a few days before writing this document, thanks to the as of yet recent revelations about prisoner Rose the warden was given explicit orders concerning the new ambitous project surrounding her.

Rose was awakened about 30 minutes later and brought to the chief's office immediately and forced to stand in all her wounded, tired and nude glory. We presented her imprisonment for the next 25 years as such:

Every week from Monday to Friday, every morning all inmates must arise from sleep at 7:00 a,m. Prisoners are to immediately obey guards' orders for heading to communal showers and attain breakfast in the cafetaria. All prisoners have about one and a half hours for breakfast and use of baths and toiletries. Prisoners are to immediately move to their designated spots, following and cooperating with security oversight to mine and cart for required precious resources. Prisoners are then allowed a break of one hour at 1:00 p.m. sharp for main lunch & snacks meal. No later than 2:00pm will all prisoners return to their previous assignments and work in the quarry. Prisoners will then be allowed a reprieve of dinner at 9:00pm sharp in the cafetaria and allowed to return to their cots immediately after full body inspection with staff members. All prisoners must allow guards to put blindfolds on them to go from place to place.

Every Saturday all prisoners are continue as normal up until 4:00pm before being allowed half day rest for one day a week. From 4:00pm onwards prisoners are allowed to either laze in the cells, do some recreational activities like football in the freely provided soccer field of the prison or running and exercise in the race track field nearby. All prisoners are to of course allow gurads to put blindfolds and ankle cuffs and knee cuffs on them and guide them to wherever they ask to be guided.

Also, in case of indigestion/constipation related issues, prisoners would be handed specialised drug tablets to force them to clear out their lower bowels within the allotted hour after 7:00am quickly as possible for daily sufficient work with near no complications.

Any amount of littering in the communal prison showers and showering with insufficient cleaning up and disposal of used materials like toilet papers, broken soaps, expelling of body fluids, wastage of food & other precious resources, slacking & lazing off during work hours or not meeting sufficient work quota, deliberate disobediance towards staff orders, etc would all be met by swift punishment and jurisdiction by guards and staff via public whipping and flogging, no allowance of either lunch or dinner, less than minimal required food, etc. Causing intentional or unintentional physical or mental harm and disability to fellow prisoners will be met with harsh punishment including no food for a minimum 4 days and extended for however long the punishment is necessary to continue by security. Socializing and interaction with fellow inmates and/or staff and security will be met with harsh whipping.

In case of some national festivals and holidays, all prisoners may be allowed 30 minute longer break hours on the weekday and longer recreational activity hours if it's on Saturday.

After we were done with the explanation we asked whether she if understood or misunderstood and anything and had any questions. Mrs. Rose answered that she understood everything. I had kept my eyes looked with hers throughout our explanation but she managed to keep an admittedly stony poker face up, giving nothing away but further clenching of her jaw when I mentioned how post dinner examinations would involve a thorough body cavity search of all her orifices as well just like the one today.

After that, the two guards who were in the office with us the whole time guided prisoner 9624 back to her cell as previously instructed.

After that, the chief and I exchanged numbers, discussed the continued monotony of the prison to help

in the rehabilitation of these criminal prisoners and departed to our respective duties again. Me back in my original office and the chief back in his prison complex control room.

Of course Rose would find many unpleasant surprises within her very first day like all the prisoners. Such as the fact that much of the cafetaria food is only barely nutritious for her new daily routine and too tasteless but the prisoners could attain real food tablets or even actual food only by providing the guards with services and entertainment. This is something the other kingdoms supect and condemn us for but can't prove due to our supreme security and the strength of our faith and patriotism each of us have.

She would like all of her fellow inmates, refuse at first before realising that the cafetaria gruel would barely be able to keep them up for their strenous work and that the medical staff near permanently on site would not be enough.

Actual progress reports of her rehabilitation starts from the next document.


	2. Chapter 2: Date what?

**Alright I don't know what's wrong with you all if you're actually wanting to read my shit considering my dead track record but have you all gone on to and bought the wonderful 'The Traitor In Front Of You' book? If you haven't, please do. It will most assuredly be worth your time. **

**Seriously. Try it. Please**

**Anyway, chapter 1 was just a poorer cut and dry copy and paste of what The Dark Watcher wrote but from here on things will be different! And maybe I might start revealing the awful AU from next chapter onwards. Or maybe not. Who knows? How do I know it's awful anyways? Well the general news is enough to justify all my limitless misanthropy and nihilism stating that poorly written characters like Salem are far from necessary to bring out our incessant cruelty and evil.**

**Plus, I will reveal how Summer fell into this mess later on, bit by bit and later getting joined by characters we _do _know.**

**For the purposes of the story and all that I've seen and read of rwby, i'm assuming summer's age after going MIA/KIA before canon to be around 25-26 years old when Yang narrated her almost death to Blake.**

**Also, A.G. = After Great War II. Or as most Remnantians (read from the cool crossfic Hunters of Justice of DC x RWBY) call it in this AU of mine, 'the second great war'. **

**As an indian, I grew up learning the SI unit metric scale for distance such as meters, centimeters, etc rather than miles and inches. So; 6 feet=1.82 metres and I will use Kgs in place of pounds.**

**Also no lewd stuff this chapter but plenty of mentions and foreshadowing of sexual abuse, brainwashing, prostitution, a Layman's understanding of Stockholme syndrome, bad grammar, etc.**

**Also I forgot, but just to save time with shit descriptions, but how many of you have seen Undisputed 3:Redemption? For those of you who have seen the movie however long ago, try and imagine this prison camp quarry to be overall the same in terms of pictography and general scen except the guards are much better. For those who havent seen the movie, please see that scene on youtube. It should give a good enough image of the quarry mine.**

**Anyways, I'll _try _and write some lewds with appropriate warnings before and after each section ok?**

**I can't promise anything on update schedule honestly. But I'd like for this idea that Dark Watcher had to be a recursive fic of it's own, so long as it's well written. You all have full permission to take my own idea and write a far better version of this fic. Just as a sidenote, please to spread my request to also try 'The Traitor In Front Of You'. Please?**

**Anyway, onwards for lewds!**

**FPLC #1, 140 A.G. :**

**BUZZ**BUZZ**BUZZ**BUZZ**

The annoying noise of the electronic morning alarm of the dull metal grey corridor lined with 5 doors on each side rang out as the fully armed guards with wearing bullet plated power armor and cartridges of non lethal and lethal lightning dust rounds alongside non dust tranquilisers and lead bullets walked along, sliding their level 7 keycards across the electronic locks of the doors with practiced ease of decades long experience, the doors sliding open and revealing the inmates. All doors had 4 digit large numbers in the center with a numerically larger but still 4 digit number in smaller font stamped underneath with a 'P' to the left.

Door 4055 slid open, presenting the room for all the inmates and guards to see. And Gregory Greenton, who'd been relocated by the lower levels of the Internal Services section of the Military for 'indisciplinary actions and uncouth relations with direct superiors' and 'Volunteer for Understaffed Prison Rehabilitation Labour Camp and Border patrol for South Lake White desert'. He'd just been shifted here alongside another 5 guards of the other border patrol unit after the ten day border patrol. What a hell that was! Nothing but cacti, rats, camels and sand.

Atleast there were some hot babes and dudes. Though it was one at a time.

As Greg entered the cell, he could only gaze around the mess that was room 4055. There was the unmistakable stench of sex mixed with sweat and piss (but mostly overpowering sex) wafted thickly in the air if he could smell it through the top notch filters of his helmet. The woman laying on her left side in the cot, back facing him grabbed his attention more than stains of unmentionables near the sink.

The woman had a heavily muscled and broad back, easily capable of competing with most national athletes for sheer physical fitness, yet maintaining the slim, feminine look amongst the visible packed muscles. Her ass, despite looking quite sore and red with a fresh looking brand of the prisoner's ID with multiple welts that looked healed enough to not be too painful for sitting, somehow still had a perfect balance of bubbly feminity and toned hardness.

Her hair was long enough to spread along the torn cot, midnight black curtains with streaks of dark red looking long enough to reach her waistline. This position didn't hide the branded symbol of her upper back; only his classes from back in the academy helped him remember various signs and symbols like this one, signifying her aura powered nature and profession.

Though the aura cancellation cuff on her left ankle set off some of the reflexive and conditioned tension he'd attained thanks to near two years of fighting aura powered bandits in the country side before this whole disciplinary rotation thing.

"Come on, get up now" he drawled out. He could get lost in his thoughts later once he actually got her to the showers and breakfast that awaited her as he reached for her shoulder. Just as he gripped her right shoulder which looked to have a finger long bandage on it, he could feel her tense up before rolling onto her right with an exhausted groan away from him, back against the wall and her magnificent-as-her-ass self presented to him on her side.

Stark silver eyes looked at him almost shiningly, as if they were the full side of the broken moon. They belonged to a face that was sculpted, yet soft with extreme tanning. Said tan was clearly on once splendidly smooth, soft and fair skin that now rippled with muscles and 4 delicious abs under full, DD-cup breasts that barely looked like gravity was pulling at them. Full dark brown nipples with erect areolas peeked out, looking hard as pebbles. Her thighs and biceps were thick, packed with riplling muscle and just enough fat to give luscious curves to thighs, shoulders and biceps. Despite how she had horizontal, vertical and diagonal angry red welts along her breasts, her abs, her limbs and some pruple bruising here and there on her face and chest, she had enough bandages to help him exit the hypnosis her sheer perfection had him under. There was quite a bit of hair around her pubis and some sparse bits under their armpits but otherwise she was almost perfectly hairless. He noticed her pubic hair to have small traces of red in them.

He didn't know why he blushed when he realised he'd been crouching and staring at the wounded, bandaged and sculpted beautiful nude form for almost two minutes, but he did finally demand she get up and comply with him. Her face was practically unreadable despite the visible exasperation her body expressed. Or atleast, that was the read he was getting off of her.

"Come on, the sooner you get yourself cleaned the sooner you can eat breakfast" he told her in his most stern 'Superior' voice (actually his bedroom voice that his wife often used actually but no one had to know such private details unless necessarily involved) to close her eyes. As she did so, he took his time taking out the royal blue cloth from a pouch on his belt, inspecting her expectant ramrod straight build.

At nearly 1.73 metres ( 5'8) she was almost as tall as himself, standing on powerful legs and her broad rounded yet scarred shoulders with similarly muscled and scarred arms at her sides. Her beautiful silver eyes (admittedly they were more exotic in a certain manner than the beautiful emerald pools of his perfect wife Jade) were hidden behind her tan eyelids. He could _feel_ a tension, a thickness of heat between them as he got flush against her, tying the blue blindfold over her eyes and behind her head. The bite marks, bruises, scars and scratches only bolstered him in grabbing her right arm firmly and guiding her to the communal showers.

When he'd learned that after the border patrol he'd be moved to a rehabilitation and labor camp, he'd worried of going a little too far with the criminal bitches without his wife to share some fun. The scroll vid calls he'd had with her placated him after sharing his worries. She actually told him to experiment and and even go all the way with these bitches!

Well, he hadn't been sure what to do since normally Jade was the more creative one out of the two of them. But maybe this prisoner 9624 could _help _with that...

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Once the blindfold came off, prisoner 9624, often 'Peaches' behind locked doors stepped forward into the one of the many places she frequently got intimate with in the last five years of her stay here.

The Communal showers had dull yellow tiles across the walls and the floor, the ceiling a blank white. Five days ago one of the six shower stalls had suddenly been put under renovation apparently due to some leakage problems, causing a bit of disruption in the usual order of things, requiring more guards than usual around the whole prison compound every day. Seeing as how there were four more than the usual three or four guards present _inside_ the relieving area are, the meager rumors she'd heard during breakfast yesterday may've true after all.

So the cue outside each stall was longer than usual, despite the arrangement being made for sharing of two people at a time. Obviously no funny business would happen in there; any more amount of the required time spent would get the ire of not only the guards but also all the inmates being held up.

Before that though, Peaches took to the toilet seat stalls with transparent glass walls and doors, for security _obviously _and not further social and mental degradation. Thanks to the forced constipation pills prescribed every night she could clear out all the rear business wastage (inlcuding quite a bit of gooey haploid DNA content) within just 5 minutes or less, no matter what or how much or how little she ate the whole previous day. After doing the poo, she headed out, the line for 'her' stall shifting forward again, only to be held up by a long line for the stalls.

Once peaches' turn _finally _arrived (after mentally counting forty minutes;dammit, fucking soap bars are useless for real sharing) she had to share with the stall with a shorter red headed woman who looked older than her with a wider waist, hips, rack and arms than Peaches herself. Her close cut red hair was complimented by her hellfire green eyes and visible freckles across her cheeks. The very aura she exuded (and the fact that Peaches had seen her around often since she was stationed here) meant she wouldn't have to spend a long and awkward time with some withering newbie for the hot bath and useless soap.

Peaches saw no problem with running soap and soap covered hands all across her fellow inmate's body, whether her ass crack, her shaved pubic area, her armpits, her sizable rack, her strong scarred back, her feet and her cropped hair. And she saw no problem with having herself be lathered similarly by the seemingly older inmate return the favour mechanically. She let out almost no grunts at the feeling of hands running over still sensitive bite marks and wounds, just like the red head.

After about five minutes of steady hot water blasting them they both headed to the line of four sinks, with a noticeably shorter line here than the stalls'.

Peaches had once been slightly spit conscious, but five years in here made it so that there was no problem using a toothbrush used by almost 200 people for every three days before being replaced by a new one. Thankfully there was a clean, uncracked mirror over each sink for aid in facial and oral cleanup.

Once the older redhead brisquely finished her brushing ahead of her (thanks to having subtlely cut Peaches' faster gait off by getting in front of her), Peaches spent about four minutes and thirty four seconds precisely in cleaning up the brush, applying new toothpaste and brushing her teeth with practiced, mechanical ease to help speed things up. Once finished with washing her mouth, Peaches headed out only to be gripped by the very guard who woke her up and guided her here.

As Peaches was blindfolded again and guided along to her next destination, she wondered idly the chances of whatever accident causing the gruel served at lunch yesterday to happen again. Knowing the professionalism of everyone here, she doubted it being beyond zero.

As the sounds of clacking boots and bare feet walking and rushing around was joined by the increasingly loud sounds of clattering, metal sliding on metal, Peaches was relieved of the blindfold to see the familiar, unchanged for the-last-three-years-cafetaria again.

An overall medium sized hall for the prisoner population here with dull metal grey walls, a low hanging ceiling with ugly yellow LED lights like the prison ceiling lights, about twenty or so rectangular light blue tables with two benches per table's two long sides. Along the side facing opposite to the wall where the entrance door was (where she just walked through like normal) was the service 'buffet' line where they got the usual breakfast, lunch and dinner (crap) served on the plates and trays by the old cooking staff working here.

Ugh, looking at their ugly, wrinkled and frowning faces while waiting in the constantly shifting line was really not pleasant. Certainly made the white, pasty recycled crap they dropped on the trays look more appealing.

Getting a few kgs of the semi-solid stuff and oddly enough, a plastic spork, she looked around for a place to sit. Searching for a face that wouldn't change to glaring if she sat with them was a bit seconds long consuming thanks to her 'ill manners' as the chief called it while regaling her for her persistant resistance didn't earn her much solidarity amongst her fellow inamte. And her popularity at her performance in both day and night didn't help either.

Spotting the redhead whom she'd bathed with earlier who was now sitting by herself, she proceed to power walk to her and sit down opposite of her.

As soon as she sat, her rear flared up a _lot,_ but she managed to (barely, as usual) keep from screaming and only letting a little show on her face as she dug into the semi-solid pale white paste under the watchful eyes of multiple guards standing and walking along walls and tables. Her former bathmate did't so much as look at her as she ate her rations in a mechanical manner. So she proceeded dig into hers as well.

The gruel was almost a perfect, tasteless, mushy enough stuff today. Good. No getting so hard the spork would break in her roughly calloused hand or too soft to become almost liquid hard to lick up all of it and clean up. She ate all of it hurriedly in less than ten minutes, chewing and swallowing fast enough.

After that, the guard who'd woken and guided her for today (she was going to mentally tag him as newbie #36 due to how he moved a little slower than most when going from point A to point B and how he was the 36th guard she'd so far come across who was seemingly 'going through the rounds' around here for the first time).

Once completely clearing the tray of any stain until it looked reasonably full dull grey steel, she proceeded to dump it into the disposal trashcan along the wall on her left, followed by 'her' guard.

Once out of the cafetaria alongside all the prisoners who'd finished breakfast, newbie 36 told her to close her eyes, grab her arm and walk away. Peaches always kept her eyes closed whenever she had these blindfolds tied onto her in daytime. What was the point of opening them only to see either darkness or one light expanse of color only?

As she walked a familiar trail of only clacking boots and bare feet again on iron and cobalt corridors, the sounds of clinking metallic chains, breaking & digging up of stone, metal and dirt, grunts and cries of females working or getting whipped respectively got clearer and clearer.

She couldn't keep the hard glaring expression off of her face now.

Not when she was made to stand alongside presumably a whole line of fellow female inmates, arms sticking out front perpendicular to their chests and legs spread shoulder wide, only to have their wrists linked together by half-metre long chains and similarly long linking between their ankles.

Not when when the blindfold was taken off of her, allowing her narrowed silver eyes to glare at the newbie, a familiar weight of iron and strong wood being pressed into her hands. She gripped the shaft with a familiarity like she personally knew it, despite the different feel of weight, chipping and tracks along the shaft and pickaxe blade telling her practiced mind that this was probably not used by her yesterday but by someone else.

Not when she wore the familiar weight of the leather work belt she definitely wore day before yesterday or put on new, fresh feeling leather boots reaching halfway up to her knees but fitting and feeling snugly for her feet.

Not when she was let out in an orderly line by newbie 36 out into open air, the glaring Sun blinding her for but a few moments due to dark adaptation in opposite. The homely (to her now) smell of fresh air mixed with sweat, blood, mundane dust and other chemical noxious sedimented particles getting dug up greeted her as she took a relaxing and deep breath of open air in this hot, humid place.

The quarry mine was an open pit mining area dug into the ground like a crater formation almost. The door she'd exited from was a metallic frame inbuilt into and contrasting against the rough rocky wall around it.

The mine was almost 50 feet deep and had gently (almost non steep) inclined areas superficially resembling lengthy staircases leading away to the edges of barbed wire fences with armed and armored guards walking along. Various wooden rods sticking out wooden placards on them with four digit numbers indicating prisoner ID's to be positioned there and start either digging into the ground or the wall for either more precious dust, more land expansion or other ores.

Women with scarred, lashed, muscular/slender, supple bodies with either tanned skin, fair but slowly baking skin and covered in grime and dirt dug and hammered away on almost every inch of the uneven walls and grounds, all the while accompanied by patrol guards and some special cases having 'assigned security'...like hers.

As newbie 36 brought her to her 'station of the day' which happened to by chance be just next to the clump of rocks she'd been hammering at yesterday (now being armored by a a girl looking no older than twenty years what with her almost intact olive skin, curvaceous model like figure, wet green eyes leaking while she cried everytime she awkwardly lifted up the hammer in her delicate, now roughed

hands to bring it down with too much wasted energy, Peaches immediately raised the pickaxe above her head with a practiced move with built up muscles before chipping away at the section of wall in front of her, hundreds of priosners to her right making joinign in with their own pickazes as well, grunting or chipping silently alternately.

Five years ago all Peaches had to rely on in using pickaxes was the familiar stances and muscle memory of using her weapon for however long she could remember and the years of gardening, however comparitively brief it was. The _pick_axe may have have been radically different from the good ole' chained axes she'd used but even without aura she'd still had some strength and compact muscle to use.

But the hot Sun, the restricting cuffs, the nudity, the very feeling of oppressiveness of the air that clogged her throat everytime she breathed it in, slowed her enough that she had barely made any progress in her 'work quota'. That had earned her ten lashes across her back while hung up by the arms in very tight rope knots in full view of everyone in the whole quarry. The guards and prisoners made a big show of it everytime, cheering and jeering at her and counting how many lashes she'd gained. Some guards and prisoners only watched on silently or continued with their respective works as if it were just normal. The only ones who cried out in protest were some new prisoners themselves no older in age or prison years as Peaches herself back then. They immediately whimpered after being thoroughly taught a lesson with gauntlets, boots, whips and tasers and told to hasten their own work or they'd get it too. That continued for about a week before she finally got the hang of it.

Just like how she accepted before the week was done that she couldn't subsist on the shit they served unless she did her dues for piggish jackasses in armor, whether having bouncing bellies, rods, jugs, muscles and whatnot for something resembling real food and medicine.

...heavier tools like hammers and things like shovels and rakes took far longer though, earning her more whippings until she learned how to use each right.

None of this really went through Peaches' head at the moment, who was just focused on anticipating how much power and momentum to put behind each swing, how much sweat to wipe off of her brow and hands, how much dust and grime collecting on her skin to wipe off, etc. while meeting her daily work quota.

Her skin practically rippled with muscles both visible and deep under and her massive full mammaries which had only gotten bigger and bigger after giving birth over 4 times.

Estimating by the position of the Sun overhead from the right and her own mental countdown, about half an hour from lunch time.

Ahh...what a _joy _to just to eat more of the paste that barely registered as more than a sloshing weight in her stomach.

_Least at night there was a different kind of sloshing liquids that oddly enough _really _were more nutritious _(or so the doctor says)_...more so when some foodplay was involved..._

Shaking her head to rid her mind of thoughts unnecessary for the moment, Peaches continued to chip away at the increasingly worn down and caved in wall front of her.

-BZZT-BZZT-BZZT-

Aand that was the cue for one hour long lunch in the cafetaria, which meant it was 1:00pm now.

Heading back with newbie 36 by her side while slow-walking in a line to the doors leading inside, Peaches wondered about inane things and what personal memorized mantras to recite to recite to herself tonight before bed.

As she was ordered by newbie 36 once past the door and the whole dark adaptation in the corridor taking time, she compliantly took of her belt first and dropping it onto the floor carelessly, then the boots, then she closed her eyes, held her arms out together and her feet apart, almost stiffening the foot chains. As she felt familiar hands embrace her wrists and feet and the feeling of a key unlocking the chains, she felt the blindfold re-tied around her head and most definitely 36's hand pulling her arm along back the way she came...to the cafetaria.

And at the cafetaria she once again sat with her bathmate-of-today-morning to feed on the gruel in silence. Taking her time in going through with swallowing down the paste since she had a full estimated 35 minutes left before being pulled back to work, she continued on remembering cherished memories that seemed almost a lifetime ago all the while having to sccop up the paste with her fingers this time.

Mindless slaughter through hordes of creepers and stronger grimm breeds. Clashing with that punk thief with his ridiculously gelled hair. Training with senior student Goodwitch. And even some good ones in here. Like that one guy Tom! Dreadfully average in looks, body, size, personality yet surprisingly introspective, respectful, _creative, _and a good firm bottom. Atleast he didn't do fucked up mindgames like that other similarly average looking psycho Joeffry. Blonde bastard was so tall and _skinny _and fucked up in the head he made the average pig guardsmen and women look like decent and civilised people.

But she still had it far easier than most new inmates in the past five years.

Saturdays atleast she could get in a few good rounds with unarmored guards and older inmates. And get a feel of stronger and weaker new inmates as well, regardless of profession...unless they were giving warning bells like Joeffry did. Regardless of some issues atleast Saturday she could blow off some steam.

She then cleaned up the plate of all paste and saliva before going through the motions again to be dragged back in standard prison worker gear to the outside, shambling in chains almost smoothly.

Steadily, the Sun started to set, the sky started to get a pleasantly warm, reddish tinge with pink-ish clouds rolling across gently. And soon, day turned to to night with a hard to see star here and there far from the moon and her shattered parts.

Reminding herself of the few good memories she'd made here in this hell and the few she held onto before incarceration continued even when the buzz alarms rang out for dinner time with flood lights, LED lights and sconces casting bright white glaring glows across the whole quarry pit, beams casting up and down from uppermost level, across the intermediate levels and across the bottom level where she was, alongside a hundred or so sweating, nude, chained, tired and hungry inmates.

After again going through the motions of paste consumption, Peaches started paying realtime attention to the guards voices while chewing away and then afterward getting blindfolded and led to a different direction for a place she was also familiar with but detested quite a bit (but still as much as everything in this whole place. So not much difference) :Doctor's office for physical examination and health checkup.

"Man 'dem peaches were some really some 'fruit' to taste if ya know what I mean" rang out a sleazy voice in her ears as she seemed to walk by what she could only assume was her 'regular' visitor guard Ramsey, who'd attended to her chest quite a bit with his friend Jacky, a guardswoman with more compact muscles but more power and style underneath her skin even unarmored.

Honestly last night was one of the far better ones and thus longer since she well, _rhymed_ with them for a lack of a better word despite a lot of friction. They were even nice enough to patch up some of her more serious cuts and bruises while having a few themselves and provide a whole can of slightly moist ham! (the fish-like smell was not off putting at all for far too many good reasons)

The distasteful smell of disinfectant and antiseptics in the air gave her slight frown a reason to stretch out into a firm line as her eyes were freed once again to a long que leading up to the closed door of one of the many doctors' offices on site.

It took about fifteen minutes before she entered into the clinic with all the typical mumbo jumbo equipment and furniture of an average A-grade clinic. Doctor Pommele, a thirty-something year old man who never seemed to express much sexual interest like a typical male would (in the sense that he was married to his work, for lack of a better description). He always shaved his head until it looked like a positively shining and reflective pale curvature. In the five years she'd come here daily, she could on her hand when she didn't see him wearing a doctor's mask and even then, bizzarely enough he wore a gas mask...a hot pink one at that. She suspected that that was the biggest clue to the fact that dry humor wasn't the only kind of jokes he could do and he liked universally fucking with people underneath that clinical and robotic demeanor of his.

He was already ready with his assistant, Rayne Summers (what a poetic name), an aspiring up-and-coming brilliant mind in her own right and a gorgeous figure she was naturally blessed with despite her book-ish nature, lack of interest in make-up and minimal fitness maintenance.

From some unconfirmed rumors (read:gossip) she was doing some sort of government interested research but was part-timing here as part of the cover-up for the whole 'under-wraps' thing. Some stupider rumors suggested she was doing research on aura shunting effects on the aura locked prisoners or even outright secretly using all the prisoners for some experimentation. Peaches took them all with a spoonful of salt and disbelief, even if the myriad of implications of each of the three stated most popular ones were worrisome.

"Prisoner 9624" came out the robotic, accent-less voice of David Pomelle, pulling her out of her unintentional musings while he continued "how are you doing since our previous inspection last night?"

Well, here was the old song and dance that continued often when she wasn't in abject pain or pregnant. He asked how she was doing, the degree of 'self-sustained' injuries from last night ( Pfft, that would still make her smile sardonically no matter how many times he repeated it like a broken tape recorder), how much of the cafetaria paste did she consume (He demanded an almost exact estimation no matter what and would ask if she was sure atleast twice again before getting on his computer terminal with what may have been her daily report being filled with his thoughts/notes), then he'd put on new white latex gloves, pat her whole self down, measure her weight, height, hair length, vision, mouth, anus via colonoscopy (that was never easy to get used to no matter what all got in there from the wrong side. She still considered it a good thing because she did not want to deal with hemorrhoids, anal cancer, rectal prosection or some such. No amount of constipation pills would solve that, she knew that much), hand grip force test, womb inspection (done by hand of both Pomelle and Summers) during which she had to honestly tell how she felt (wasn't easy to focus during that bit and tell honestly because despite the absolute dry and non-erogenous intent of their hand motions in her, she still got easily aroused. Being forced into constant degrading erotic acts kinda made her both sensitive yet optionally desensitized at the same time).

Pomelle would then ask her what she was thinking about from time to time, did she 'conduct in socialization rituals' (read:making friends) etc. and other such inane questions about her mental status. Thankfully he left mindgames like 'one word-instant response' out for today.

Good! From his pretty much unchanged stance it seemed there was nothing out of ordinary with her physically and she'd given the same normal answers to him like every night, word-for-word.

So now...she could get down to _non-sleeping _business for tonight, most certainly involving newbie 36 here (she'd make sure to ask for his name, unlikely as he put give his real one for the both legal and sensible reasons he shouldn't to such a _terrible criminal like herself! _Would still be better than calling him newbie, 36 or newbie 36) seeing as how he was almost speed walking while holding her, giving away just how openly excited he was to getting down to business.

And no matter how many times it happened for so long that she lost track that she'd been here for five long years, Peaches still couldn't help the flush of shame and arousal rushing across her skin and fluidly down her thighs come out...


End file.
